


Creature of Habit

by Morningside



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Inappropriate Use of the Force, Interrogation, M/M, Mind Rape, Poe Dameron's smart mouth, Rape, Restraints, Torture, Trash Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 03:49:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5728525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morningside/pseuds/Morningside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you even have a dick under that costume?  I heard that Vader lost his when he became a weird cyborg.  So I was thinking you Knights of Ren knockoffs might castrate yourselves so you can be more like your sorry eunuch idol…”</p><p>Crazy, mouthy, defiant Poe. Kylo Ren being Kylo Ren. Irredeemable interrogation porn trash. You know how this goes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Creature of Habit

The waiting is the worst part.

Yes, Poe concedes, literally being tortured isn’t exactly a party, especially when it features that masked monster who calls himself “Kylo Ren” trying to root around in Poe’s consciousness. Getting beaten and taunted and shocked with electric rods all also suck bantha balls. But the long, lonely anticipation – _when will they feed me? when will they let me piss? what are they planning next? will this be when I die?_ – is far more of a trial than the actual moment of testing.

Poe’s a creature of action, of interaction, so slouching here, pinned to a freaky First Order torture-table, is nearly unbearable. The blood thrums through his veins, screaming for fight and flight, but there’s nowhere to move. It leaves him feeling hollowed out, and they’ve hardly even done anything yet. He’s still _intact_ , mentally and physically. He could still return to his normal life, if only he could slip free of these bonds and fly away.

He doesn’t imagine that will last long. But imagining is exactly the problem.

So he gives himself a mantra to fill the silence. Protect BB-8. Protect Skywalker. Protect the Resistance. If he can just do this, just one last mission, then he’ll have lived a better life than most.

Protect BB-8. Protect Skywalker. Protect the Resistance. From moment to moment. Don’t worry about what’s coming next.

Easier said than done.

It’s almost a relief when the doors whoosh open. Kylo Ren billows in, flanked by six Stormtroopers.

“Rebel,” Ren states by way of a greeting. “Shall we begin again?”

Poe yawns and rolls his shoulders in his bindings. “Aw, and here I was just getting settled in. But if this is a good time for you, my schedule’s pretty free.”

“Where is the map to Luke Skywalker?”

“No idea what you mean. I was on Jakku to catch up with an old pal. Shit planet, but a nice guy.”

Ren nods at a guard, who grabs that _fucking_ electric stick. Poe sucks in a breath and grits his jaw just before it slams into his chest. Arcs of pain burst out through his limbs, spasming his toes and chattering his teeth.

“Do not lie to me,” Kylo Ren warns. “I have felt the map in your mind. Need I remind you?”

“Nah, I think I’m good.”

“But you seem to have forgotten. Here. Let’s see how far we get this time.”

The black, sucking vortex of Kylo Ren’s being wraps itself around Poe’s temples and _pulls_. Images flash before his eyes: the General handing him his orders, the flashing of stars, the hit on his X-Wing…Poe screams and _pulls_ back. The pain is beyond physical. He feels like his entire self is about to burst into individual atoms. His vision goes red – and then its over. Kylo Ren’s hand drops like a dead weight.

“Very good. Progress. So we continue.”

Ren steps back and the Stormtrooper with the electric rod takes his place. “Ready when you are,” Poe spits out. Then the guard presses it into his armpit, and that stops the conversation for a bit. Sometimes Poe fills the pauses with senseless chatter, partially to prove to himself that he still can: _That rod has quite a bite. I bet that shit could keep a nexu at bay. Do you need any special training to use that thing? It must be a real bitch when you mess up and zap yourself._ But mostly he focuses on the words cycling through his head – _protect BB-8, protect Skywalker, protect the resistance_ – and tries to remember how to keep breathing.

“Enough,” Ren eventually commands. “I think it may be time for us to change tack for a moment. You have an impressive tolerance for pain, rebel. I recognize that, and I respect it. But everyone has their weakness.”

Poe rolls his eyes. “ _Everyone has their weakness_. Are you reading these out of some kind of villain handbook?”

“There is more than one kind of pain, and some varieties leave us more _exposed_ than others. …Disrobe him.”

A guard comes forward and start pulling down his pants.

Shit. _Shit_. His mouth opens and words tumble out as his brain trips along after them.

“So now we’re getting to the fun stuff! I was wondering when you boys were gonna realize that these chains look more than a bit suggestive." His underwear is shoved down to his ankles. "I should've known you were a bunch of kinky fuckers all along, what with the uniforms and the fixation on discipline. I know how to play this game, you bad things. You ready to take some of the edge off?”

The zap-happy guard jams the electric rod up under his breastbone. Poe grits his teeth against a scream as the world whites out for a moment.

“Electric play, huh?” he gasps. “Pretty daring stuff. I didn’t know the First Order let you guys get so experi _mental_ –” the rod steals his breath again.

“That’s enough,” Kylo Ren drones from the side. “Release his leg. The left one.”

The two troopers bend down and open the cuff around his ankle. As they pull his foot from the leg of his pants, he lashes out, more reflex than conscious thought. He catches one of them under the chin with his knee, but then the rod is against his gut again and they have his thigh pulled up almost to his chest so he’s spread to the world.

Kylo Ren raises a hand and Poe feels the leg immobilize. The guards strap it into place. Kylo Ren releases the Force-hold and Poe tests at the bonds. He isn’t going anywhere.

“Nice change of position,” he rambles. “That whole flat-as-a-board thing was getting a bit stiff.”

“Keep talking,” Kylo Ren responds. “It will change nothing.”

“I dunno, some nice conversation can really set the mood.  Though it does work best as a two-way street.”

“BL-359, as squad leader, you will take the captive first. Your men can then follow at your discretion.”

“Sir.” The head Stormtrooper salutes and starts undoing his codpiece. This is happening.

Poe’s had a lot of partners who have liked a whole lot of things. And he’s a dumbass adrenaline junky, so he may have found himself in an inadvisable situation or two. In other circumstances, this could be fun – the restraints, the elaborate scenario, the audience.

He can survive this. It’s better than having a short-tempered Sith Lord scrubbing out his skull. He can survive this. He doesn’t expect to make it out of here alive, but some First Order goons getting their rocks off won’t be what ends him.

But he really, really doesn’t want to take a whole team of guards. Not if he can avoid it. So he thinks fast.

“I take it you like to watch then, Ren. I should’ve known you were a wild one, what with that black leather getup.”

The head guard’s codpiece clatters to the ground.

“What, mask-o, you afraid to do your dirty work for yourself? Gonna let your boys have all the fun? Afraid you might like it?”

“Your taunts mean nothing to me.”

“Do you even have a dick under that costume? I heard that Vader lost his when he became a weird cyborg. So I was thinking you Knights of Ren knockoffs might castrate yourselves so you can be more like your sorry eunuch idol…”

An invisible hand slams into his throat. “ _You will not disrespect Lord Vader._ ”

“Too late for that,” Poe croaks. “Now I’ve got this image of helmet-head the dickless wonder in my head, and it’s kinda hard to take him seriously once you start thinking about how much compensation,” the grip tightens, “ _must’ve been in that big red lightsaber…_ ”

“ _Out!_ ” Kylo Ren roars. “All of you, _leave us!_ ”

The Stormtroopers march out. Poe would count this as a victory, but for the fact that Ren still isn’t letting him breathe, and the edges of his vision are starting to go dark.

Ren stomps into Poe’s space. “Are you ready to apologize now?”

Poe bares his teeth and spits into the mask.

Ren’s sputtering lightsaber is immediately in front of Poe’s eyes.   “ _Are you sorry?_ ” he shrieks, an edge of hysteria in that modulated voice, then grabs Poe’s dick and slashes the blade downward. It stops inches above his groin; he can feel it singeing the hair.

“Now,” Ren murmurs, “are you ready to apologize for insulting Lord Vader?" The lightsaber thrums. Poe sees dark spots dance across his vision. "…No, never mind. The fear in your eyes is apology enough.”

The lightsaber hisses back into its sheath and the grip around Poe’s neck disappears. He sucks in long gasps, slouching against his bounds. _No more castration jokes when you have your dick out. Good going, Dameron_.

“You’ve made a terrible mistake,” Kylo Ren says, running a finger along Poe’s damp brow. It’s sickeningly light, almost intimate. Poe’s temple throbs with the memory of him trying to break into Poe’s memories. “I’m doing this to you to weaken your mind, so that I can access your thoughts. I was just going to learn your pain as my soldiers raped you, but this is so much better. Once I’m inside your body, I’ll be that much closer to breaking into your mind. You didn’t want this to happen, but now it’s too late.”

“I’ll let you know what I want once you show me what you’ve got,” Poe winks.

“So valiant. So daring. It will be a shame to destroy you.”

“You always say the sweetest things, darling.”

“Spit,” he orders, holding a gloved palm in front of Poe’s hand. “It’s all the lubrication you’ll get.”

Poe tries, but they haven’t given him much to drink since he was captured. Kylo Ren sighs, long-suffering, then bruisingly seizes Poe’s jaw and shoves three long fingers down his throat. Poe gags and works his throat around the intrusion. It’s really in his best interest to cooperate on this one.

“A definite thing for choking,” he coughs out as the fingers retreat. “I’ll have to remember that.”

“Mock all you want. You won’t be laughing soon.”

“I don’t know. I’m still waiting to see if you have a dick or not…oh, look, there it is!”

Ren has pulled his cock out from under his many layers and is slicking it with Poe’s spit. It looks ridiculous and obscene, a long column of pale flesh protruding from all that inhuman darkness. Poe imagines taking that glimpse of mortal vulnerability between his teeth and ripping it off.

He curves his body into Poe’s and rubs his cockhead over Poe’s hole.

“Are you gonna take that whole mask get-up off? Because I tend to like to see people’s faces when I’m doing this…”

“Ready yourself.”

“…though I guess if the mask is part of the mystique, I can respect that…”

Kylo Ren shoves up into Poe’s body. It’s too tight, too dry. The angle’s all wrong. It punches the air right out of his body.

The pain forces tears from his eyes, but his mouth just keeps running, running, running like Poe’s spirit will soon be running away from this hellhole of a ship to fly free again among the stars.

“Oh, yeah, babe,” he cries at his reflection in that dead mask, a parody of a bad porn actor, “just give me your big cock! Yeah, fill me up! Just like that, ooo!”

“You can’t hide your feelings from me,” Ren cuts in, almost tender. “I can feel all your hate, all your shame, all your fear. You can’t keep me out. From anywhere.” He shoves deeper into Poe, until his robes are flush with Poe’s bare skin. “I can feel what you enjoy.”

“Ah- _ahh_ ,” Poe grunts, trying to turn a sob into an exaggerated moan of pleasure. “ _Ooo, take me, you big bad killer._ ”

Ren pulls out and thrusts back in, hard. Poe can’t hide his wince. Ren gives a satisfied little chuckle. “I gotta say, asshole," Poe shoots back, "I don’t know what you’ve got against real lube. Is that why you First Order types are always walking around like you’ve got sticks up your asses? Because you’re taking each other’s dry dicks?”

“And yet you take me so well,” Ren muses almost fondly, stroking lightly at Poe’s aching rim. “Rebel whore. Your body just lets me in. Might your mind be ready to do the same?”

He raises his hand to Poe’s face. Poe clenches his whole body in anticipation, and _Force_ that doesn’t feel nice in his ass, but he’s got bigger problems right now because–

But Ren just laughs, all smug power. “I think not yet. You have yet to fully open yourself to me. Then it will be easy.”

“You calling me easy? And here I thought we had something special.”

His hand trails down Poe’s chest (still absurdly clothed) and grabs his limp cock.

Poe braces himself for whatever sadism his captor has in mind – but then Ren wraps his leather-clad fingers firmly around Poe and begins to stroke him. It’s a good, firm rhythm, curse him.

Poe raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Well, this is a nice turn of events.”

Ren tips his head back. He _has_ to be smirking under that mask. “Surprised?”

“What can I say, I wasn’t exactly expecting you to be a gentleman.”

“You will find that I’m not entirely heartless, when I’m getting what I want.” He circles his hips. Poe feels his dick twitch.

“You just wanted me all along? You should have said something, sweetheart. You could have saved your tailor a whole lot of work.”

“If I wanted,” Kylo Ren breathes, twisting his hand around the tip of Poe's dick, “I could take control of your nervous system and make you come, right now, and then I could make you instantly hard again..."

"Nice trick!"

"...and force you to come and come and come until you lost your mind from pleasure. I could destroy you, rebel, and I could make you thank me for doing so. You should respect me.”

Poe has no idea if he’s telling the truth. That sounds like a shitty way to die, a Sith monster’s pleasure-puppet, and he should really just keep his mouth shut, but – “Big talk! Why don’t you give it a shot, then? I bet we could both use the entertainment.”

“Because that would be cheating, and I always earn my rewards. When I break into your mind, I will have _earned it_. And I don’t need tricks to win your orgasm.”

“Promises, promises,” Poe spits back, but damn, it’s working. The leather and the bondage and the dark assurances and the cock working his ass are all conspiring to make his dick swell.

So there’s nothing for it but to sink into the restraints as best he can and take what Kylo Ren deals him. There’s no need to draw this out for any longer than necessary. If he closes his eyes and just focuses on the sensation, he can almost pretend that this is something he chose, that he isn’t being fucked by his probable killer.

“C’mon, that’s it,” he yells out when he feels himself getting close. Might as well give the guards waiting outside something to gossip about their leader. “Make me feel good, make me come on you, yeah, yeah…”

“You will open your eyes before you orgasm,” Kylo Ren orders, speeding up his thrusts.

“Go fuck yourself.”

“You will open your eyes, or I will burn them out.”

“Shit, okay.  Eyes.  If that’s your thing, sure.” Poe obeys.

Ren fists his free hand in Poe’s hair. “Look at me. Good.”

“It’d be a lot easier…without the mask…” he gasps.

“Now _come_ for me. Rebel slut. Come now. Come.”

Poe locks eyes with his dim reflection, tries not to think of the beast behind it, and spills in Ren’s hand.

Ren, still thrusting, strokes his jizz-covered hand down Poe’s cheek. “Gross, man.” Poe flinches through the haze of release. “Poor form.”

“Still defiant, even though I have seen you at your weakest.”

“Still a pretentious shithead, even though you have your skinny dick up my ass. So go ahead. Come in me. Prove your cock really works.”

Ren punishes him with a particularly deep thrust. “You still had any question?”

“Then fill me up with your First Order douchebag jizz. What’s stopping you? I’m obviously not stopping you. Come in me. Show you really can.”

“If you insist,” Ren shoots back, then wraps a hand – an actual, physical hand, wonder of wonders – around Poe’s throat. It’s not enough to strangle him, but it stops up his speech.

Poe shoots the mask his best bedroom pout and clenches down around Ren, the small measure of control he still has. It hurts, but it's worth it to feel the surprised twitch in Ren's fingers. Ren gives a shout, garbled into absurdity by his mask, and empties into Poe.

And that’s that.

Ren unbinds Poe’s splayed leg ( _fuck_ that hurts his joints to move again) and locks it back into place. He then pulls up Poe’s underwear and pants (without wiping him off, lovely, he’s going to have Sith jizz dripping down his leg now), silent and efficient.

Poe considers filling the awkward hush, but now he just feels _tired_. This is when he should have a warm, sated body and a good drink by his side. Instead he just gets to look forward to, at best, cold handcuffs and loneliness. _For BB-8, for Skywalker, for the Resistance_.

But then Ren leans into Poe and places a firm hand over his eyes, blocking out his vision. Poe hears a strange, mechanical hissing, then Ren speaks, only this time it’s _Kylo Ren_ , no machine barricading him off from the world. “Thank you,” he mutters in Poe’s ear, “for all that you have shown me of yourself. You are…a remarkable man. And soon you will be entirely mine.” His voice is hesitant, young, entirely human.

He brushes dry lips against Poe’s own.

Then the mask hisses back into place, and the hand lifts from Poe’s eyes, but remains hovering over his face.

“A final try, then. Just stay open to me. You don’t need to make this any harder on yourself.”

He slams into Poe’s mind, and Poe screams. Images tear away from him: stars, Lor San Tekka, screaming villagers, falling to his knees before Kylo Ren… He pulls back, body and mind, and it’s like iron claws are raking through his psyche.

But then he’s free, and Kylo Ren is hunched over, panting almost as much as Poe.

Ren straightens. “Close, rebel. Very close. I’ll let you think on what has happened to you here. I hope you reflect wisely.” He sweeps out of the room.

"Douchebag!" Poe shouts at the closing doors.

And then he's left alone to wait.

**Author's Note:**

> I tripped and fell and trash fell out of my pockets. Oops. Time to go atone for my sins with some OT3 fluff.
> 
> (Also "helmet-head the dickless wonder" is now my mental title for Darth Vader. Double oops.)


End file.
